


Voices

by CuriousMeans



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousMeans/pseuds/CuriousMeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle remembers voices, but not the ones she wants to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices

A puff of snow flurries followed Belle into the diner. Drops of ice clung to her skin, and she shook the cold out of her hands, flinging water droplets on the floor. Belle glanced around, ignoring the odd looks thrown her way over shoulders and newspapers, and Ruby caught her eye from behind the counter. Grinning and waving, Belle slid into a booth. The couple behind her broke into barely concealed whispers.

Ruby dropped a glass of iced tea in front of Belle. “Round five billion?”

“Give or take a few,” Belle said, balancing her chin on her hands. “It’s been an adventure.” She rubbed her hands together before gripping her drink.

“One day will that adventure include a warm drink?”

Belle stared at Ruby through her eyelashes and rolled her eyes. “I’m enjoying new things.”

“For the hundredth time.”

Belle opened her mouth, but was cut off.

“Can we get ours to go?” the man behind Belle asked.

Ruby glanced at Belle and pursed her lips. She stalked over to the counter, grabbed a few boxes, and dropped them unceremoniously onto the table of the whispering couple. Belle ducked her head

“Those cost extra,” Granny shouted from the kitchen.

Ruby smiled at the couple, all white, sharp teeth, and turned back to Belle. “Good luck.”

Belle looked up again in time to catch Ruby’s wink. Behind her the door creaked open again, and a hush fell over the diner. The whispers started up again, sharper and softer, at the sound of a cane on the tile.

“They never do know when to stop talking,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

Belle turned back around, bouncing a little in the booth.

“It’ll pass,” she said, watching him balance his cane against the table. “They did the same thing to me.”

“You are known for your beastly company,” he said. “You beat me here.”

“I was excited. I have fond memories of you stomping through the snow at the castle.”

Rumpelstiltskin frowned, the dramatic tilt down and upward roll of his eyes so familiar it made Belle laugh.

“Tedious season, winter. Don’t see why we need it. I tried to deal with Jack, but he wouldn’t accept anything less than Jadis’s wand. Too much of a bother.”

“You just don’t like the cold,” Belle said. She pointedly ignored the rest of his sentence and sipped her tea. “We need winter whether you like it or not. It’s the prologue to spring.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Shush,” Belle said. She waved a hand at him. “And don’t tell me you nailed the curtains down here, too.”

“Of course not, sweetheart.”

He couldn’t find enough endearments, and Belle didn’t have a problem with it. Ruby slid a cup of coffee in front of Rumpelstiltskin and hurried away.

“We have blinds here; lovely invention.”

The door opened again, with another puff of cold air and car exhaust. Belle leaned across the table.

“If you’d like,” Rumpelstiltskin said, spreading a napkin across his lap. “I could find something to nail over the windows and I could catch you. It worked well the first time.”

There was a comfortable awkwardness to this barely there flirting that thrilled Belle. She couldn’t stop smiling and forced herself to frown.

“Nah!” Belle hissed at him and pointed a finger at him.

“Sweetheart—“

“No making fun of me.”

“It’s not really—“

“Nah!”

She sounded more like she was directing a horse than impersonating Rumpelstiltskin, but he smiled anyways.

“Fair enough,” he said with his crooked smile.

Belle settled back into her seat. A few people around them gossiped and Granny was watching them from the corner of her eyes. Lifting her head, Belle moved out of the way as Ruby slid two plates in front of them.

“Two hamburgers, extra pickles, and Granny says that if this becomes anymore regular she’ll start charging for rent,” Ruby said to Rumpelstiltskin.

“Thank you,” Belle said before Rumpelstiltskin could open his mouth, and gave him a quelling look.

He reached for the ketchup. A pleasant, quivery feeling filled Belle’s chest, and she pressed her lips together.

“No being angry while we’re on our dates,” she said.

He gave an exaggerated sigh and fluttered a hand over his heart. “As you wish.”

Belle laughed and dropped a fry back on her plate. A blonde woman gaped at her from the corner of her sight, but Belle ignored her. She tilted her head to the side and leaned towards him.

“How did you know I was reading that?”

Rumpelstiltskin brandished a fry at her. “Magician’s secret, dearest.”

She laughed again. The scent of grilled onions and pepper made Belle’s mouth water. She prodded the poppy seed bun and squished the hamburger into a conquerable size. Mustard and pickles oozed out of the sides onto her fries, and Rumpelstiltskin laughed softly, head ducked as though ashamed of his own amusement. Belle plucked the ketchup from his hands and squeezed some onto her plate. The world smelled like salt and grease and spice.

It was wonderful.

She reached across the table for his hand. He didn’t respond, too shocked by the touch, and Belle squeeze his hand.

“Relax, Rumpel.”

He smiled. A barely there blush crept up his cheeks.

“You really are crazy.”

Rumpelstiltskin whipped his head round.

“Excuse me?” he growled through clenched teeth.

Belle didn’t turn, didn’t move. A sharp, prickling feeling collected in the back of her throat and she couldn’t swallow it down. Her chest felt heavy, and the weight of the words she wanted to say held her tongue. The silverware rattled with her shaking hands.

“Completely mad,” the blonde monster in a nurse’s uniform whispered.

Belle knew that voice. She knew it as well as she knew Rumpelstiltskin’s and better than she knew her own. It was the voice, muffled by metal doors and drugged hazes, which hung in the air when she woke up screaming and gasping for air. The fuzzy memories were always there; always close enough to hear, but too far to understand.

_“Completely mad.”_

_Belle could make out those two words through the crack between the door and the floor. She swirled her plastic spoon around in the watery soup. Mushy carrots slices and uneven pieces of chopped celery bobbed up in down, and Belle used the soup to scribble words on the floor. Curly R’s and swoopy L’s were out of order, but she kept on writing. The mix of letters didn’t make any sense. Belle couldn’t find the will to eat._

_“…drown herself…” the voice continued. “…soup. Be such a mess.”_

_Belle tipped the Styrofoam bowl. The soup washed away the letters and leaked under the door. Hunger gnawed at the edges of her insides, and Belle curled up on the floor, watching the thin soup creep along the cracks in the cement. Lifting her arms was exhausting._

_“Too stupid to talk.”_

Her spoon clattered to the ground.

“Sweetheart?”

Rumpelstiltskin spun in his seat, one hand reaching for Belle, but she pushed him away. The cold was in her throat, sharp and burning, and she couldn’t swallow it down. The woman stared at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, and Belle couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t be brave.

Belle stumbled out of the booth. Rumpelstiltskin’s hand tried to grip her dress, and she fumbled with his fingers until he let go. The woman just stared, standing there speechless and disgusted, and Belle darted out the diner door.

Her voice was always there—even now.

Snow and ice bit at her ankles. The cold air prickled against her skin, but her insides were suddenly impossibly hot. Her chest burned, the heat in her skin stretched and tight around her ribs. Belle gripped the wall of the diner and bit down her lip with the pain behind her eyes. Bile bubbled up in the back of her throat. It crawled into her nose.

She vomited into a snowdrift. On her knees in the cold, she coughed and spluttered. Chunks of breakfast hit her teeth and caught in strands of her hair. Heat pounded in her head, and she shook it, trying to dislodge the spittle in her hair and the pounding between her ears. She spat out a glob of something disgusting and wiped her hands under her eyes. Such a mess.

The steady clunk of a cane on the ice broke through the pounding.

Belle sniffed. The burning spread through her nose. A pair of expensive leather shoes came to a stop beside her.

“Belle?”

The cane fell into the snow on her other side. Rumpelstiltskin laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Dearest?”

“Belle,” she whispered. Her throat was raw and scratched, and she needed to blow her nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to be any more disgusting in front of Rumpelstiltskin. “They never used my name. I don’t think they knew it.” A weak whimper escaped her damaged throat. “I don’t think I had one.”

“Belle,” he said, kneeling down next to her in the filthy alleyway slush. He wiped a handkerchief over her mouth and tossed it into an open trashcan. “Belle, what’s wrong.”

She so desperately wanted to say ‘me’, but bit down that response. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

“She’s the nurse who used to watch me,” Belle said. She leaned into Rumpelstiltskin and shuddered. “She brought me soup and my medicine. I could hear her talking through the door. She would call me mad and I would spill my soup to make her angry. She called me mad.”

Rumpelstiltskin slid his fingers up and down her arm. His hands were warm and calloused, comforting in the cold.

“You’re not mad, Belle.”

She wanted to agree, but his voice was familiar and quieted the pounding in her head. He threaded his fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry, Belle.”

She shook her head, but let him drape his jacket over her shoulders.

“It’s not your fault.”

He wrapped his jacket around her and buttoned it up. Belle pressed her cheek against his shoulder, sure he was still considering everything his fault.

“It’s not your fault,” she said again.

Her cold fingertips slipped under his collar and he yelped. She laughed, sniffling and ignoring the burning, and he pulled her hair out of the jacket collar. The steam from their breaths lingered in the air, and Belle turned her face away. Such a mess.

“And I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

“No, no, Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, waving a finger beneath her face. “Nah!” he said when she opened her mouth. “You ruined nothing, darling.”

“The alley.”

“To be so lucky,” he said, helping her up.

Belle grabbed his cane and linked their arms. “Would you say that if I’d vomited on you?”

“If only,” he said wistfully.

Belle bumped him with her shoulder.

“Are you all right to walk, Belle?”

She smiled at the sound of her name and nodded. “I was sick and reminded of unpleasant things. I’m not dying.”

They struggled out of the melted slush around their feet. Without the heat and pain in her chest, Belle was uncomfortably aware of the cold and wet. It seeped through her tights and dress hem, and large wet splotches dotted Rumpelstiltskin’s dress pants. He didn’t seem to mind and just helped her back to the sidewalk. Ruby was standing in the doorway of the diner. A dozen curious noses were pressed against the glass. Rumpelstiltskin glanced once in their direction, and all but Ruby turned away, suddenly busy. Belle smiled.

“I should apologize to Granny for being sick in her alley.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand if you call once you’re warm and home.”

“I would like to brush my teeth.”

He squeezed her and led her towards the library. When he leaned in to kiss her cheek Belle jerked away. He blinked, eyes darting around, and ducked his head.

“Let me brush my teeth first,” said Belle.

She kissed his shoulder and he laughed softly.

“Of course.”

He laughed again, and Belle knew he was still uncertain.

“There’s still time for me to turn her into a snail,” he offered.

“No snails.”

“She won’t feel a thing,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Until I step on her.”

“Nah!” Belle flicked his nose.

He reared back.

“Really, dear?”

“No snails!”

Rumpelstiltskin ducked his chin in and stared at her over the edge of his nose so reminiscent of her that she laughed. Bell stuck her shaking hands into the pockets of his coat and rolled her eyes.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. It’s not the magic I mean, but what you tend to do with it.”

“The magic and the beast are one in the same, dear.”

Belle made a face. “You’re not a beast,” she said carefully. “You’ve done monstrous things, but at your heart you’re not a monster. You can use magic without doing horrible things. That’s all I ask.”

“A bit judgmental. Who are you to decide that living as a snail is horrible?”

Belle didn’t say anything, but pointed a finger at his face. Sarcasm in the face of feelings was nothing new. She’d a feeling they shared the fear that the other would vanish at any moment. Any touch could mean the difference between dreams and reality. She shook her head. Huffing and rolling his eyes like she used to do back home, he rubbed her arms and kissed the top of her head.

“And stop mocking me.”

“As you wish.”


End file.
